


Christmas with the Family

by DonovanS



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Christmas, Dysfunctional Family, Family Reunion, Gen, Holidays, Ireland, M/M, References to Richard Brook
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-16
Updated: 2013-04-15
Packaged: 2017-12-08 15:41:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/763092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DonovanS/pseuds/DonovanS
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim finds himself spending Christmas with his family. It's honestly not his favorite holiday to begin with and the soul crushing boredom of his idiotic family members doesn't help.<br/>Perhaps there's a few ways to be productive and spice things up...he just needs to figure them out. </p><p>Explicit in the second chapter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Family Reunion

Nothing about this was a good idea and Jim knew it.

He hated get togethers, especially with his own family. Sebastian’s at least pretended they were happy for them, Moriarty’s? 

They swerved wildly between passive aggressive comments about his time of arrival or comments on his manner of dress to outright and obvious fearfulness and the body language of the clearly unsettled. When he spoke to them, they so often gave him awkward smiles and halfhearted attempts to keep up with what he was saying. It was frustrating and embarrassing, coming from a family of working class idiots. 

“I can’t believe I agreed to this.” Jim mentally chastised himself. Christmas wasn’t even a holiday he celebrated so why had he allowed, of all people, his mother to talk him into this. 

“It will be nice Jimmy.” The matriarch reassured him from her place in the driver’s seat, her pale, thin fingers coiled around the steering wheel made Jim’s stomach twist, making him imagine them twisting around the ends of her armchair the first time he’d announced his move out’ve country. 

“It’s Jim, mummy.” It was a passionless correction, bland, like stating the answer to an exceedingly simple math problem.

She responded bitterly through her teeth. “No, your brother is Jim.” 

It was true though. The Moriarty’s were an embarrassing lot in the name department. Three James for the same two parents? Mummy must’ve been on the good stuff when she made those decisions. Jim was the middle child, he’d always been ‘Jimmy.’ Colonel James, Station Worker Jim and nearly jobless Jimmy with the poor selling Astronomy book and the rich ‘Sugar Daddy’ Moran. It was hilarious from an outsider’s perspective and Sebastian had certainly gotten a kick out’ve it when he’d first found out. 

His lips curled back in a sneer that his mother clearly noticed.

“It will be nice to see everyone again, Jimmy. Your younger brother got a promotion, did you know? He’s a station manager now.”

The sneer wasn’t going anywhere, clearly. 

“They’ll be as delighted as always to see me, I’m sure.” he hissed, trying his hardest not to grind his teeth, the last thing he needed when he got home was another dental visit, he already damaged them enough in his sleep.

The road in front of him seemed to go on forever, his mother’s voice droning on about the successes of his siblings, endless bragging that made the Criminal’s ears ring. Finally pulling up to the front of the Moriarty family home was a bloody godsend.

“Jimmy!” Christ, it would take all the effort in the world to not choke his brother blue.

“Hello James.” Moriarty greeted his elder sibling without even the slightest enthusiasm, letting the larger man throw his arms around him and trying not to imagine sinking his teeth into his jugular, letting him bleed out into the snow. “You’re out’ve the desert, I see.”

“Just for the holidays.” James continued, seemingly oblivious to his siblings attitude “Mum was more than a touch excited. How ‘bout you than? Still livin’ with the discharge? That Moran money not run dry yet?” 

And there it was, backhanded as ever.

“Sebastian and I are still together, yes.” Moriarty replied cooly, nose upturned. A mantra of Sebastian’s ‘do not start a fight’ playing over and over in his head as the three of them entered the familiar warmth of their childhood home.

Jim, the youngest Jim, was already inside, chatting happily to their father, introducing the latest in his series of girlfriends, a petite brunette with small breasts and long legs. He’d greeted them joyously at the door, hugging each one before stopping at his middle sibling and holding out his hand awkwardly. 

“Jimmy.”

“…Jim.” Moriarty narrowed his eyes, shaking his ‘baby’ brother’s hand much like one would handle a dog toy coated in saliva.

“I, uh, Jimmy, this is Nora. Nora, Jimmy.” The Station Manager said, motioning for his ‘date’ to come over. “We uh, we’re seeing each other, met in Cardiff over the summer.” 

Nora held her hand out and blushed instantly when the Criminal took it and pressed his lips to her knuckles.

“The pleasures mine.” He purred, his brothers both looking absolutely gobsmacked at the exchanged. “I must say my siblings taste has improved a great deal since last year, redheads, bit of a cliche around here, hm? Ah, and I see by the flushed lips you’ve already provided my brother his present early, you really _are_ something to celebrate” 

God, that smile was poisonous and the look on Nora’s face as her eyes darted to the youngest Jim was priceless.

Hmm…Well, if there was anything he’d learned from watching Sherlock Holmes 24/7 it was how to make an entire room feel exposed with a simple sentence. Perhaps the Criminal Mastermind could find his own ways to have fun this Christmas.


	2. Takes the Edge Off

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A guest room and a skype connection really help take the edge off the night, eh Jim?

“So, how was the trip?” Sebastian’s voice over their Skype connection was music to Moriarty’s ears. “I take it you survived the drive with your mother?”

“Barely.” Jim replied, digging his thumb and forefinger into his tightly shut eyes. “I’m fairly certain she should’ve had her license revoked decades ago.” He stroked his chin contemplatively before adjusting his laptop, getting a clearer shot of his face in the webcam. “Or she thinks she’s driving in the states. I’d believe either.” 

Sebastian laughed, grinning at his partner through the screen. Jim’s face softened involuntarily, eyes wandering over the older man’s face.

“Missin’ me already boss?” Sebastian teased, tilting his head. “Only been gone a day.”

“Cheeky.” Jim responded, unbuttoning his dress shirt. He was more than prepared to tear his way out’ve his least favorite suit and crawl into bed. 

The Sniper on his screen let his eyes linger on the pale skin behind the buttons, trying not to notice as Jim wet his lips unconsciously. 

“Whatever you say, Magpie…” The words came out a tad huskier than Sebastian had intended, earning him a look of concern followed immediately by a dark, sinister grin.

“Why ‘Bastian, I’m flattered. Even a thousand miles away?” Jim tilted his head innocently, slipping the shirt off his shoulders and letting it frame his chest for bit. 

“Jim.” Sebastian growled, glaring through the screen. “Don’t tease.”

It wasn’t fair. No one, no one he had ever encountered, male or female, had the effect Moriarty had on him. The closest rush he’d found was hunting tigers and, in the long run, tigers never tied him up, stripped naked and ground down against his erection until he thought his blood flow would never return to normal. He really had no right to tease him, acting so nonchalant.

The well scripted ‘SM’ carefully tattooed just below the smaller man’s collarbone didn’t help. 

“Last I checked, I make the rules, Moran.” Jim purred darkly, the shirt finally removed, tossed carelessly across the room. “Besides, you can hardly expect me to sleep in this…horrid outfit.” 

He curled his lips in disgust at the last two words, as though the clothing had committed some horrible indiscretion towards him. 

“You do make the rules sir.” Sebastian conceded as he mimicked his boss’ actions, slowly unbuttoning an already tight, red shirt he’d squeezed into earlier that day. “But I’d hate to be the only one getting a show.”

Jim’s eyes widened, smile suddenly less seductive and more excited. 

“How noble of you, Tiger.” 

“Only for you, babe.” He replied, tossing the shirt away. “Besides, can’t have you sleepin’ in those trousers Boss. Not exactly comfortable I’d imagine.” 

The tone was cocky, confident. Two of Jim’s favorite traits when it came to his Sniper, really.

Jim just licked his lips in response, pushing the laptop further down the bed so more of his body was in view before pushing his hips forward, hand cupping on his groin.

“Jim, c’mon.” Sebastian sounded more desperate than he’d intended, something that seemed to please Moriarty immensely.

“Patience is a virtue, Tiger.”

“You don’t know shit about virtues Jim.”

He had to give Sebastian that, after all, he was currently slipping his trousers and pants down his thighs.

“Still green, huh?” Sebastian chuckled. “Thought Sherlock would be showing up at your family get together, yeah?”

Jim shot him a glare. 

“You never know with him.” He stated cooling. “Now, What happened to my show?” 

Moran nodded, licking his lips and pushing his own laptop back. Lucky bastard was nice and comfy in Jim’s bed back home, silk sheets and those nice, black jeans that hugged his narrow hips so perfectly. He’d argued when Jim bought them. Claimed that he was ‘too old for that crap,’ but Jim hadn’t cared. Age didn’t matter with his Sniper.

“Now tiger.”

Sebastian didn’t need to be told twice, undoing his belt buckle and hooking his thumbs in his belt loops before pulling them down.

The dark grey boxer briefs followed soon after, slide down those nice, muscular legs and quickly discarded, left to their own devices on the floor. 

The pair shared a mutual smirk, both dark and lustful, waiting to see who was more in the mood to dominate the rest of the situation. 

“Sebastian.” Jim, naturally. “I really do miss you.”

“I know babe.”

“So much.” The criminal licked his lips, sliding his left index finger into his mouth. 

“Dammit, Jim, fuck you.” Sebastian could feel his heart speed up, blood heading south much faster than he’d planned. Well, he hadn’t planned any of this but if he had…

Jim smiled around his fingers, pulling them out with a wet sort’ve ‘pop’ and making a show of dragging them down his chest.

“And fuck Ireland.” the Sniper continued. “Fucking torture, s’what this is.”

Okay, that made him laugh. 

“Bit hard to be sexy with you saying things like that, dear.” Jim tried to ignore Sebastian’s prideful expression, biting his lip as he slide his fingers between his spread legs.

“Goddamn, lookit you.” Sebastian’s voice had lost that humorous tone. It was now replaced completely with a deep and vicious growl. “The things I’d do if I was there.” 

“What…would you do?” Jim huffed, leaning back with his legs spread, making sure his Sniper got the best of his little show. Spit didn’t work great as lube but it worked for the moment, of course he might’ve just been a bit too worked up to care. 

Sebastian snapped his tongue against the roof of his mouth, calloused fingers coiled around a now prominent hard-on. 

“Oh, I’d make you fucking scream, Magpie.” 

Huh. Not as specific as he’d like buuuut…

“I’d pin those pretty arms back, run my teeth over your neck, bruise those nice hips up.”

Oh…much better.

Sebastian licked his lips, predatory, hand moving a bit slower as he imagined Jim there, all silver tongue and sinew, biting and moaning and making his every nerve raw from the inside out. 

“I pull you up, put that gorgeous ass in the air. Slip my fingers inside you and pull. You’d try to crawl away, wouldn’t you Magpie?”

“Perhaps…on my hands and knees, try to escape. I might even bite you. You’d keep me there though, curl your fingers just right. Make me sob and sink into the sheets. Make me call your name.” That was a bit more desperate than Jim had intended to intended to sound. Oops. He lifted his head up, gripping his erection with his right hand. Sebastian grinned at him from the computer screen, his own hand matching the speed of his partner’s movements almost perfectly. 

“I’d pull you up, pull your arms back, force you down on my dick. I’d break that pretty arse of your’s Jim.” 

“Pull me back on it with each thrust?” Jim’s fingers moved faster, ignoring the building friction, that unpleasant burn. 

“God yeah.”

“Make sure I took all of it?”

“Every bit.”

“Make me cum?”

“Drain you-ah-dry.” 

Jim smiled. Probably the first genuine, unhindered one of the night.

His tongue was caught between his teeth as he listened to his partner’s breath hitch, the slippery sounds of both their hands, he could hear almost everything over the microphone. 

‘Glad I paid the extra money for a good set.’ he thought, toes curling instinctively as he heard the unmistakable growl in his ear. 

When he came it was almost silent, just a small utterance of ‘Moran~’ as his cum painted his own chest and his fingers slipped free. 

His name, smooth and velvet, dripping from the Criminal’s tongue was all Sebastian needed to follow suit, albeit louder with an angry purr rather than a name.

Several minutes passed before Jim finally sat up, eyes half lidded and hair looking mussed from cheap sheet static. Sebastian watched him from the other side of the screen, apparently having cleaned himself up while Jim had bathed a bit in what little afterglow there was.

“You still alive there, boss? I’d hate if you met your end before your charming family had a chance to bore you to death.” The older man chuckled, wearing an expression almost as cocky as before if just a tad warming, a ‘cat that got the cream’ sort’ve look. 

“I’d say Christmas is going fairly well, considering.” Jim licked his lips, dipping his fingertips in the fluids slowly drying on his stomach. “Certainly took the edge off.” 

“Happy to help.” Seb responded with an eyeroll. “Took the edge off your look too. You look adorable like that.”

Jim raised an eyebrow, confused until he noticed his reflection in the mirror across the room.

God, he looked wrecked and he’d barely done anything. On top of it, Sebastian was right, he looked much less…less threatening. Less brilliant. Less…Moriarty. 

An idea began to form, shifting through the curves and grooves of his already twisted mind.

Less Moriarty. 

“Oh, ‘Bastian, you’re such a glorious idiot.”


End file.
